


for mortals: there is a share

by ifnot_winter



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Introspection, M/M, Quiet, Seduction, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifnot_winter/pseuds/ifnot_winter
Summary: Reid could find no precedent in his experience for so gentle a seduction. Or so effective.+An exploration of moments and intimacy through three consecutive fragments of text paired with fragments of Sappho's lyric poetry.





	for mortals: there is a share

**Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained herein are the property of CBS, etc. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

Originally posted 06-08-07, part of an ongoing project to shift all of my ancient fanworks to ao3.

. . .

_I long and seek after_

The susurration of Hotch's breath on his nape had a cadence unlike any ballad in Reid's repertoire. The weight of Hotch's arm upon his ribcage was a comfort, fingers tangled in the bedclothes so very near Reid's own, and unburdened by expectation.

Between them lay stillness; the slow, easy tandem their breaths had fallen to. The itch in his blood quietened, the endless cascade of his thoughts gentled, muffled by the softness of Hotch's mouth, so close, barely touching. All seemed possible in the close dimness.

Reid could find no precedent in his experience for so gentle a seduction. Or so effective.

He slept.

_. . ._

_you burn me_

The first morning, Reid watched Hotch doctor his coffee from behind the shield of his purple Choco Cat mug (a gift from Garcia), expression half obfuscated by curls of steam that he disrupted intermittently with impatient little huffs of breath, his own coffee pale and heaped with sugar and still, maddeningly, hot enough to flay tastebuds.

On the second morning, Reid put his observation to use, but poured out the results and rinsed the mug before Hotch emerged, pouring him a fresh cup. On the third, Reid slept in.

On the fourth morning, Hotch found his coffee already altered. His semi-cautious sip had Reid holding his breath. The consequent smile warmed Reid deeper than the furthest fingerings of the caffeine and sugar rush cradled between his palms.

_. . ._

_because I prayed_  
this word:  
I want

Hotch's gaze lingered, like the sense memory of the brief crossing of the paths of their fingertips upon the hot curve of porcelain as it was passed between them. Emboldened, Reid dared close the distance between them with something other than stilted words, allowing their mouths the rare opportunity of tasting something like truth, unfettered.

. . .

Italicized quotes are fragments of Sappho from Anne Carson's _if not, winter_.


End file.
